“Come in,” I called, rising from the bed.
“Sorry to disturb you,” James said as he entered. A deep flush stained his cheeks when he saw me standing by the edge of the bed without a shirt. He quickly averted his eyes.
I walked over to the closet door and pulled it open. “I was just heading downstairs,” I said, riffling through the clothes I found hanging there until my eyes fell on a plain black button-up shirt.
“If you have a moment, Ryan has requested a meeting with you before you leave,” James said, obviously expecting me to turn down the invitation.
I paused in the act up buttoning up the shirt, grateful that Melanie and I were roughly the same size. “Just me? Not Sadira?” I was surprised. Sadira was the oldest of the trio of nightwalkers in the compound, making her the natural superior.
“He asked only for you.”
“I guess I can spare a few moments,” I said with an indifferent shrug as I attached the last two buttons. I was going to finally meet the big boss man. I wasn’t sure how much new information he would be able to provide, but so far Themis had been most helpful. Far more helpful than Jabari and Sadira, who were working very hard to keep me out of the loop, while someone was trying to kill me. And this time it didn’t appear to be a hunter.
Twenty-Four
Ryan was a warlock. I had suspected it before arriving at the Compound, but it was blatantly obvious when I walked into his private office on the third floor. He leaned against the front of his large walnut desk, his long legs stretched out before him and crossed casually at the ankle. He had been expecting me. Of course, I’m sure he could feel every move I made in his manor without straining himself.
He was a handsome man, standing just over six feet, with a long, lean body that somehow managed to exude a beautiful grace rather than being awkward. He wore a dark charcoal-gray suit with a black undershirt. Unlike his brethren, he wasn’t wearing a tie, and the top two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing an expanse of nicely tanned throat. In fact, his tanned skin and dark-colored suit stood in sharp contrast to his long white hair. Falling somewhere past his shoulders, it was pulled back with a narrow, black ribbon; a throwback to an era long past.
His face had a strange ageless quality to it. There were no wrinkles or deep lines, making him seem to be in his early to mid-thirties at first glance. But his gold eyes held a depth that one could only earn through years of experience. He was old; older than any human was meant to be.
Magic had a distinct effect on a human’s physical appearance. And the deeper and more skilled a warlock or witch became in the use of magic, the more profound the effect. His power was etched into his features and imbued every inch of his being. It sizzled in the room like a current of electricity, making my skin crawl.
Most humans that used magic did it by accident. Events sometimes happened in their favor and the human simply chalked it up as a run of good luck. Only the ones who actually studied magic and attained some basic understanding were called witches and warlocks. And then there were those like Ryan, who made the study of magic a life’s pursuit. They were simply called dangerous.
After James wordlessly shut the door, leaving me alone with this strange man, Ryan rose to his feet without pushing off the desk. He stood in the same, seemingly boneless manner that vampires could. I had known a few warlocks in my time, but never saw a human pull a trick I always thought exclusive to nightwalkers.
“Impressive.” I said, lightly applauding. “I guess pulling a rabbit out of your hat is too mundane.”
He smiled back at me; a warm, friendly smile that seemed open and guileless. That was almost more impressive that his earlier trick. How could someone who wielded as much power as he did seem so nice? The same way the naturi seemed so harmless—centuries of practice.
“My name is Ryan,” he said, extending his hand toward me. I stared at it a moment, admiring his long fingers, but never touched him. It was a good, strong hand, the type of hand that could comfort as easily as it could punish.
Stepping around him, I looked at some of the bookshelves that lined his wall. I glanced over the old spines, but my attention was still completely on the room’s only other occupant. I preferred to keep a little space between us for now. “I know your name,” I replied blandly. “I also know what you are. My question is: Do your associates know?”
“They know I’m a warlock,” he said, drawing my eyes back to him. His smile grew a little wider. “However, I imagine your assessment of my powers is a little more accurate than theirs.”
Arching one eyebrow at him, I smiled. “So you’ve purposefully kept them in the dark.” There was no anger or accusation in my voice. Just honest curiosity. I wanted to understand his motives and the situation I had walked into. I also desperately needed to understand the players in this little farce before it cost me my existence.
“My abilities aren’t important to their cause.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I corrected. “You’ve not only kept them in the dark about yourself, but also the truth about vampires. I’ve heard and read some of the things these people believe about my kind. Why do you allow them to perpetuate such lies?”
“For their own safety,” he said. His wide smile faded a bit but still lingered on his lips. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, reminding me of a corporate executive after hours.
“What about mine? You’ve been sending hunters after my kind.”
“Both of our worlds are changing; much faster than I expected, I must admit. A couple centuries ago some of the things written about vampires were true. Most were ruthless hunters that killed every time they fed, but now I have found they are using some discretion. You’re still very dangerous, and without some fear of you, I worry humans will run blindly into your inviting arms.”
“I may have disillusioned poor James of some of these archaic notions. Will you silence him to keep him from infecting the rest?”
“No, of course not,” he said with a shake of his head, looking amused. “I won’t suppress the truth within Themis. However, I want them to find it on their own.”
“And the hunters? Were they your creation? Another attempt to protect your flock?” I slowly paced back over toward him, my footsteps muffled on the thick Persian rug.
Ryan had yet to move other than to turn on a heel so he was continuously facing me. “The hunters were created long before I ever joined Themis.”
“But you’ve done nothing to get rid of them since joining this little cult, despite your enlightened view of my kind.”
“What makes you think that my view of nightwalkers is so enlightened?” he countered, arching one brow at me.
“I’m here and still alive,” I said, holding out my hands, palms up at him. I stood directly in front of him, only a couple feet of empty space separating us. “You could have ordered Danaus to stake me and the others during the daylight hours, but you didn’t. I also know that you couldn’t have attained the kind of power I feel in this room without running into things far worse than me during your long years.”
“What could be worse than a nightwalker who can control fire?” he said, his smile finally returning.
“Danaus.”
Ryan’s smile instantly vanished and a shadow seemed to pass over his eyes as he stared at me, weighing my answer. We were both now standing in a field of land mines, each wondering how much the other person knew. His hands shifted in his trouser pockets, his eyes narrowing in thought. I had never run across such an eye color in any creature before—not yellow, but the true, deep luster of gold.
“Danaus is an interesting…person,” he said, pausing for a breath before continuing. “He’s had a particular interest in you during the past several years.”